Chapter Four
The mess hall was already loud by the time Stone walked in, the smell of grilled meat and seasoned potatoes thick in the air.
Metal trays clattered against the serving line, boots scuffed across the scarred wooden floor, and voices overlapped in a steady hum—assassins and recruits alike fueling up before afternoon training kicked into high gear.
Stone scanned the room automatically, cataloging faces and exits, before his gaze snagged on the figure at the far end of the hall.
Dave.
Sitting with his usual composure, a former Army General, spine military-straight even at a battered ranch table, cup in hand.
Stone noticed the small betrayals in Dave’s posture—the quickened rhythm of his breath, the way his pupils expanded as he drew closer.
Nobody else would catch it, but Stone had been reading Dave too long, too close, to miss it.
“About time,” Rip called out from two tables over, his grin flashing as he shoved a piece of toast into his mouth. “Thought you’d slept in with the boss.”
Winter’s blade-sharp smirk followed, cool as always. “If he had, he’d be limping.”
Even Black chuckled, low and steady, while the recruits at their table went wide-eyed at the boldness.
Stone dropped his tray of food onto the table and took a seat opposite Dave, deliberately unbothered, though he flicked Winter the finger on the way down.
“You three should get new material.”
Rip leaned back, folding his arms behind his head like a man who’d just won something. “Why? This stuff writes itself.”
Winter cut in. “Careful, Rip. You’ll push him too far, and then you’ll end up sparring with Stone before lunch. I’d hate to see you laid out in front of your tray.”
Black rumbled, amused. “That might improve the food.”
Laughter rolled through the table, recruits ducking their heads, and for a moment, the tension threaded into something lighter.
Stone stretched out, long legs bracketing Dave’s beneath the table. Not rough, not obvious—just deliberate.
Dave startled, shifting as if to move, but Stone left the space closed in. For half a breath too long, Dave stayed where he was.
When Dave finally leaned back, his pulse had already given him away. Stone didn’t smirk, didn’t need to. He’d seen it—and he knew Dave hadn’t minded.
Stone reached across the table and stole a slice of wedged potato off Dave’s plate, clean and quick.
Dave didn’t even blink—just shifted his cup out of the way so Stone wouldn’t knock it over, like muscle memory.
Stone bit in, chewing slowly, a flicker of amusement tugging at him. Dave didn’t notice the eyes on them, didn’t seem to care that the gesture looked like a habit. He just went on sipping his coffee, steady as ever, while Stone pretended not to watch him over the rim of his fork.
Dave’s mouth twitched as if he might smile, but instead, he sipped at his coffee, careful, controlled.
The attraction Dave always tried to hide was there, but shielded.
Stone felt the magnetic pull of it anyway.
He caught it again, in the smallest shift: the way Dave’s throat worked when he swallowed, the pulse in his temple ticking faster than his calm exterior would allow.
And when Stone let their eyes meet just for a second too long, he saw what Dave wouldn’t say.
Want.
Stone tracked Dave’s every move, the way he angled his body away, then back again, as if pulled by an invisible cord he couldn’t cut.
The mess hall around them buzzed with routine—clatter, chatter, the scrape of boots—but at this table, Stone felt the edges of something sharper.
Dave wanted him. Stone knew it. But Dave didn’t know how to go about it.
Stone leaned back in his chair, arms folding, gaze steady on the man across from him.
He didn’t push, didn’t speak it aloud.
He just let the silence stretch, filled with all the things neither of them had yet promised.
By the time lunch tapered down, Viper’s shadow fell over their table. He didn’t have to speak; the tilt of his chin toward a separate conference room was enough.
Minutes later, Stone and Dave sat across from him in the briefing room, a wide oak table between them. Maps and surveillance photos were spread out, pinned with red markers across a stretch of Nevada desert.
Viper steepled his hands, gaze hard.
“The chatter we’ve uncovered is real. One of our strongholds has been compromised. My sources suggest Titus is behind it.”
Stone’s jaw tightened. “Which one?”
“The Nevada site,” Viper said. “North of here. Old tunnels, built into the desert during the war games program. Our teams have stocked it with comms gear, weapons, and fallback supplies. It’s been safe for years—until now.”
Dave leaned forward, scanning the maps. “What kind of compromise? Are we talking about full breach?”
“I don’t know for sure, but my sources have picked up movement,” Viper replied.
“Mercenaries sniffing around, too close for coincidence. If they get into that site, they’ll walk away with our weapons, gear, supplies, equipment, and the intel to every safehouse tied to it.
That’s not just dangerous—it’s catastrophic. ”
“We can’t let them get close,” Dave agreed.
“You’ll take point,” Viper went on, eyes sliding to Stone. “And you won’t be alone. Law will join you.”
Stone’s eyes narrowed. “So you said. Why him?”
“His past with that program and his boots on the ground give him an edge,” Viper said evenly.
“Law also knows the terrain; knows the way those strongholds were built. But I can’t have him go in alone.
You two have worked together in the past. So, Stone, you’ll run point.
Dave, do I have your approval?” Viper deferred to Dave for the final orders.
“Yes. I’ll anchor the operation,” Dave murmured.
The silence that followed pressed thick against the walls.
Law’s name had left a sting, but Stone kept his expression unreadable. Yet inside, something old stirred. What was it? Regret? Nostalgia? He had walked away from Law when his heart had started shifting toward Dave.
Law was capable, brilliant even, but he carried with him the kind of memories Stone hadn’t revisited in years.
Stone didn’t look at Dave, not directly, but he felt him—steady, watchful, the air between them already charged from lunch was now threaded with something heavier.
Finally, Dave spoke. “If Law’s part of this, I want clear parameters. He goes off-script, I’ll shut him down.”
Viper’s mouth twitched into something like approval. “That’s why the President wants us all on this. Stone and Law for the Titus hunt. Dave for the leash and me for additional intel.”
Stone leaned back, arms folding. “Then we’d better move fast. Because if the wrong people find that bunker first, none of us will like the fallout.”
Viper nodded once. “Then it’s settled. You meet up with Law in the morning.”
Stone felt the familiar surge of mission-focus settling in, sharpening his edges. But even as the table filled with maps and orders, his eyes slid to Dave.
And as he held the man’s gaze for one long moment, he couldn’t shake his misgivings, nor the knowledge that before this mission ended, he’d have to face not just the ghosts of his pasts—but the ones sitting across from him.
They left the briefing room side by side, the door shutting with a heavy click behind them.
For a few steps, neither spoke, their boots echoing in the narrow hallway. Stone kept his eyes forward, but every nerve was tuned to the man walking beside him.
Dave broke the silence first, his voice low. “Law is going to test this team.”
Stone’s jaw worked, tight. “He’s not the only one.”
That earned him a glance—sharp, assessing—but Dave didn’t rise to the bait. He adjusted his cuffs instead, the picture of composure. Except Stone saw the small betrayals again—the quick flicker of his pulse at his throat, the subtle hitch in his breath.
“Don’t let Law throw you off,” Dave said finally, tone even, though his gaze lingered a second too long.
Stone’s mouth tilted faintly. “Him? Or you?”
The silence that followed stretched taut as a wire.
Dave looked away first, his steps resuming, the soldier-mask snapping back into place. But Stone had seen it—the crack beneath—the want Dave wouldn’t name.
And for the first time that afternoon, Stone felt the mission ahead wasn’t the only dangerous ground they’d be walking.
Stone stood at the edge of the building, his gaze tracking Dave’s commanding form as he strode toward the main ranch house.
“Stone.”
Clinton’s voice was soft, precise. He stepped out of the shadowed hall, too close, smile measured.
Stone tossed the man a hard glance, silently portraying boredom, unimportance.
“You think Dave tells you everything? About the bunkers. About Law. About Titus. About what the President asks of him.”
Stone’s jaw ticked. “He tells me what I need to know.”
Clinton’s smile thinned. “Exactly. What you need to know. Not everything.” He let the silence stretch. “You’ve been at his side for years, but some things… he keeps in Washington. With me.”
Stone hated that the words carried weight.
“Don’t let it blindside you,” Clinton added, voice almost sympathetic. “Dave will always need me.”
Then he was gone, leaving Stone in the empty corridor, pulse tight, a seed of doubt lodged where it didn’t belong.
It was later, almost sunset, when Dave’s phone buzzed in his pocket.
He stepped out of the office he used at the ranch and walked outside. The sun was sinking in the west.
The message was encrypted, Sparrow’s signature embedded in the code.
California breached. More strongholds at risk. Eyes on the coast. Proceed carefully.
Dave’s jaw set. The weight doubled—Nevada’s threat on one side, California now tugging hard from the other.
A low breath escaped him. His informant, Sparrow, never sent warnings unless the ground was already shifting beneath their feet.
This had to be connected to the bunkers already compromised.
Dave quickly found Viper and explained the situation, and then sought out Stone in the bunkhouse.
Stone glanced up immediately when he entered.
“Walk with me,” Dave said and stepped back outside.
The Nevada sky burned with streaks of orange as the sun slipped west, clouds lit like embers. Dave crossed the paddock with Stone beside him, the air warm with hay and horses, the hush of crickets threading through the night.
Stone finally broke it. “You’re awfully quiet.”
Dave stopped at the fence, fingers resting against the worn wood.
“Sparrow reached out.” He didn’t need to explain Sparrow to Stone. Stone knew pretty much everybody and everything associated with him.
“And…” Stone’s voice sounded tight with strain.
“And California bunkers may be compromised as well as the one here in Nevada.”
Stone’s eyes snapped toward him. “So, what now?”
“I’ve got to go back to California,” Dave said simply.
Stone frowned. “Why can’t you handle things from here?”
Dave turned to meet his eyes, steady. “I run everything from my estate. You know that. I can’t sit here while Sparrow’s flagging California.”
And he didn’t add—that watching Stone and Law circle each other again wasn’t something he was ready for.
Stone’s silence stretched long. The smell of horses carried in the chilly air, grounding them, but the weight of parting pressed harder.
Dave shifted closer, his voice low. “I don’t know how long I’ll be gone.”
Stone crowded in, his big frame brushing against Dave’s, heat pressing through the chill. “Guess we’ll both be busy.” Stone’s reply was guttural.
The air tightened, charged.
They stood there a beat longer, body to body against the fence, breaths mingling.
Dave didn’t step back, didn’t need to—he felt the weight of Stone’s presence like an anchor, and for once he didn’t want it gone. He wanted them together in California, but Stone’s mission was here.
“Don’t do anything crazy,” Stone murmured, voice lower now, intimate. “Like go after Titus yourself.”
“I won’t.” Dave’s mouth curved faintly, but his eyes stayed serious, searching Stone’s face in the dark.
The silence stretched—dangerous, loaded—until Clinton’s voice cut across the paddock, smooth as ever. “Sir. Your car is waiting.”
A muscle ticked hard in Stone’s jaw as he stepped back, the night breaking between them.
Dave closed his eyes for the briefest moment, then straightened, the soldier mask sliding back into place. He gave Stone one last look before turning toward Clinton’s silhouette, footsteps already carrying him away.
And Stone was left in the paddock, the smell of hay and horses heavy in the night, with only the hollow space where Dave had stood.